


It Started with Hot Chocolate

by blueboxesandtrafficcones



Series: 31 Days of Ficmas 2018 [15]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Falling In Love, Hot Chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxesandtrafficcones/pseuds/blueboxesandtrafficcones
Summary: Something as simple as a library cafe mix-up changes the lives for the better of a gruff professor and the exhausted book check-out girl.College AU
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Series: 31 Days of Ficmas 2018 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1200850
Comments: 15
Kudos: 89
Collections: 31 Days of Ficmas 2018





	It Started with Hot Chocolate

It started with a simple mistake.

“Peppermint hot chocolate for Ian,” the barista called, setting the paper cup down on the pick-up shelf. “That’s yours, isn’t it?” she added, peering at Ian, who stared back perplexed.

“I’m Ian, but that wasn’t my order.” Brow furrowing he pulled out his receipt to verify. “I had a medium plain coffee.”

The vaguely-familiar looking girl next to him coughed politely. “I had a large peppermint hot chocolate, but I’m _not_ Ian.”

“Oh… kay,” the girl behind the counter said slowly, glancing over at the cashier. “Clara-”

Finishing her transaction the cashier moved towards them. “What’s up?”

The barista, _Amy_ , held up two cups. “I’ve got a medium peppermint hot chocolate for Ian and a large coffee for Rose?”

“Ooooh, yeah, I must’ve mixed them up,” Clara grimaced. “Sorry about that- Amy’ll remake those right away. Sorry. Can I offer you a pastry or something to make up for it?”

Ian said “no”, the same time the girl said “yes”, causing a bit of an awkward silence as the cashier stared at them.

“Okay…”

They stood side by side, looking at anything but each other. _Get it together, Tucker_ , he told himself firmly, glaring at the café’s name. _Stop it._ Something about the girl was familiar though, on a visceral level, and his eyes kept sliding back to her as he tried to place her.

Standing there with her arms crossed, hair loose and face makeup free, she looked exhausted and vaguely lost.

“You look like you could use a coffee” slipped out before he could stop it, flushing as startled eyes turned on him. “Instead of hot chocolate, I mean,” he gestured vaguely towards the barista.

The girl- Rose- gave a wry smile. “Already had too much I’m afraid. I’m hoping this’ll help me wind down.”

He raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Partying late?”

“Ha!” She shook her head, gesturing over her shoulder with her thumb, “Library’s never party central, but certainly not with exams coming up. I work the checkout desk. With the round-the-clock hours going right now, and being low woman on the totem pole, I get the night shift.” A yawn ripped its way free from her mouth, scrunching her face adorably, though she looked positively horrified once it was over. “Sorry! I’m just… Blimey I’m tired.”

He nodded in understanding. “Been there,” he commiserated, “when I was a lowly grad student I pulled many an overnight shift, either working or studying. Or sometimes both, if I was lucky. Only way out is through, I’m afraid.”

“I do get some work done,” she shrugged, “papers and such, but reading… ugh. I can’t focus. Interruptions help, but… I learn better by experience. Reading about historic battles does nothing for me- I need to _hear_ about it, or see it on a screen or presentation or something. And I have no idea why I’m telling you this.” She giggled nervously. “Definitely time for a nap, I think.”

Ian was saved from answering by Amy calling them over, and he didn’t have a chance to say a word, much less think of something witty to say, before Rose took her pastry and drink and vanished.

_Well, that was interesting._

* * *

Drumming his fingers on his desktop, he watched the second hand of the clock tick past the hour, a small _ding!_ signifying the end of his office hours for the evening.

 _Why do I both staying until ten?_ he grumbled, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. _It’s not like anyone comes anyway._ Despite teaching roughly four hundred students a semester he rarely had anyone visit his office. His class offerings were wildly popular, were completely filled in seconds every time it came time to choose classes, but he never had much interaction with students outside of the meeting times.

Filled with a restless, unexplicable energy he leapt to his feet, pacing on the rug in front of his desk as his brain tried to sort out what his body wanted.

Eyes flickering to the open history book in front of him, he had to admit, at least to himself, of where precisely he wanted to be.

Chewing on his lip, he decided to take the chance. Grabbing his bag and keys, he let himself out into the hallway and locked his office door behind him.

Maybe, if he was lucky, he still had some teaching to do tonight.

* * *

Tilting her head all the way back, Rose let out a soft whimper as only a few drops of coffee trickled down into her mouth. With most of her shift left but none of her self-imposed coffee budget (both in terms of caffeine and cost), it was shaping up to be a long night.

Turning back to the open textbook in front of her, she propped her head up on her hand and tried to concentrate. _Why did I take a history class?_ she moaned silently, the words swimming on the page. _This is torture._

A book landed on the counter in front of her, startling her so badly she almost fell off the stool, yelping as she scrambled to stay on.

“Uh, sorry,” a Scottish accent muttered, and she looked up with wide eyes.

Every single person on campus knew who Professor Ian Tucker was. His classes were legendary, rarely on-topic but always fascinating. No matter how many sections he opened in a semester they were all fully booked in roughly ten seconds, with waiting lists a mile long. _Everyone_ wanted to have him as a Professor, and Rose Tyler was no exception.

“It’s okay,” she gulped, wondering at her bad luck. In two days she’d managed to have two bad encounters with him; first the day before with the coffee/hot chocolate snafu, and now with him scaring her half to death. “Did you want to check this out?”

 _Of course he wants to check it out, that’s why he brought it to the check-out desk_ , she mentally rolled her eyes, cursing her ineptitude.

“Eh,” he just shrugged, already turning her textbook around and flipping through the pages. “You’re studying Culloden?”

“Um, yeah.” Straightening up, she tucked her hair behind her ears, watching anxiously as he read a paragraph. “Do you know anything about it?” _He’s Scottish, dumbo, of course he does_.

Tucker snorted, glancing up at her with a wry smile. “A little. We had to study it in school, and took a class trip up there once. It’s… it’s something.” His smile fell, eyes unseeing for a moment as he stared off into the distance for a long moment before abruptly returning to reality. “What d’you need to know about it?”

“Everything.” She let out a deep breath. “I’ve an exam tomorrow on it, and I just… I can’t get it all to _stick_. I should understand it, right? Simple enough? Scotland versus England? Ugly battle? But…”

“Is that what your professor said?” he asked neutrally. “Who’ve you got?”

“Rassilon.” In other words, the head of the history department. “I just… I’m not getting it.”

Keeping his head down, Tucker offered slowly, “Would you like some help?”

“What?”

“You said you learned better from a more visual standpoint, right? Listening instead of reading.”

Rose’s jaw dropped slightly, eyes widening in amazement. “Ye- yeah.” _Why would he remember that?_

“Well…” he gestured to himself somewhat self-consciously, “I’m somewhat of an expert on the subject- at least, more than Rassilon. I’d be happy to explain it.”

“You would?”

Tucker nodded. “Only if you want.”

_If I want? Who in their right mind would turn down a private lecture from Ian Tucker?!_

“Yes, _please_!”

* * *

He returned the next night at precisely quarter past ten, an expectant look on his face. “Well?”

Biting her lip, Rose drew out, “Well, it’s hard to say but…” A smile bloomed over her face. “I think it went really well! Much better than it would’ve if it wasn’t for you. Thank you, thank you, _thank you_!”

“I’m a professor,” he shrugged, “teaching’s my job.” But he had a shy smile that sent her heart into overdrive. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, though?” she asked unsurely, even as she toyed with the textbook in front of her – today, calculus. “Someone waiting on you?”

He shook his head. “No one waiting, and no where I’d rather be.” He went pink at that, and so did she, but he moved quickly past it. “Now, what’s today’s subject?”

And without giving it another second of hesitation, she swung open the gate to let him back behind the counter. “Calculus. Can you help?”

“Can I help? Of course. Now, let’s see…”

* * *

On the third night, she had a textbook open and waiting, spirit sinking when half ten came and went.

And then he appeared, looking haggard and frustrated, thrusting a paper cup across the counter towards her as he came around. “I swear, those idiots running the shop downstairs haven’t got two brain cells to rub together. How hard is it to make two drinks? Very difficult, apparently. And they’re in medicine, heaven help us all. What is it tonight?”

“Poetry,” she accepted the cup gratefully, nearly salivating at the thought of coffee. “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing less than a first,” he said brusquely, dumping his coat and bag and reaching for the textbook.

“A- what? First what?”

He looked up at her, piercing blue eyes that seemed to see into her very soul. “A first. Every time, or I stop.”

“Stop _what_?” She was trying desperately to follow, certain he wasn’t saying what he seemed to be implying, but something wasn’t adding up.

Tucker sighed. “Being your personal tutor.”

“I-”

“Now, shut up, drink your froofy drink, and let me read this.”

Staring at him, unable to believe her luck, Rose did as told, settling back on her stool and taking a sip, shocked to find peppermint hot chocolate instead of the expected coffee. Removing the lid to see, she found whipped cream and tiny snowflake sprinkles on top.

Returning her gaze to him, watching him mouth the words of the poem as he read, a warmth blossomed in her chest that had nothing to do with the hot drink.

* * *

“-And they lived happily ever after. The end.” Rose snapped the book shut, putting it aside and snuggling down next to her toddler. “And that really is the end- sleepy time for you, young sir.”

“But Mummy, please,” he whined, “tell me another story?”

She gave an overly dramatic sigh, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “What do you want to hear?”

The little boy screwed up his face in thought, so like his father she could barely hold a smile. “Will you tell me the story of my name?”

“Of your name?” Rose repeated, arching an eyebrow. “Or why you’re named that?”

“Why,” he decided after a moment, peering up at her. “Please?”

Taking a moment to readjust their position on the bed, she nodded. “Oh, all right. But that really is the end, you hear?”

He nodded eagerly.

“Okay. So, the story starts long, long ago in a place far, far away-”

“Star Wars?”

“England.”

“That’s even farther!”

Rose laughed. “Are you gonna let me tell this or not? Now, hush and listen. Many, many years ago, far away in England, lived a boy and girl. And one day-”

Movement in the doorway caught her eye, and she looked up to grin at her husband. “What d’you think, Culloden, should we let Daddy join us?”

“Yes! Is Daddy in this story?”

“‘Is Daddy in this story?’” Ian repeated, taking mock offense as he climbed in behind Rose, scooting her and their son across the mattress to the wall. “Of course I am. Daddy’s a very _important_ part of the story. There would _be_ no story without Daddy.”

Rose snorted.

“It’s true!” he protested, as Culloden giggled. “I said something first, didn’t I? We wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.”

She hummed, tilting her head back and forth as she pretended to think. “Oh, I suppose. Now, why don’t you tell the story, Dad?”

Ian smiled, heart full to bursting as he looked at his little family, more in love than he’d ever known was possible.

“Sure, Mum. Now, this story starts with the simplest thing in the world. It starts with a girl who wanted hot chocolate, and got so much more…”


End file.
